


Come A Little Closer

by KatyTheInspiredWorkaholic



Series: Katy's RWG Bingo submissions [1]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Accidental Stimulation, Alexandria Safe-Zone, And language - as usual, Awkwardness abound, Chapter 1 rated T, Chapter 2 rated M, Compromising Situation, Frottage, Hand Jobs, M/M, Rickyl Writers' Group, Rickyl Writers' Group Bingo 2016, Smut, Sometime in seaosn 06, Surprisingly not crack, Teasing, That's as far as I got on time-lines, honestly I don't know what I just wrote
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-21
Updated: 2016-01-23
Packaged: 2018-05-15 09:12:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5780086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KatyTheInspiredWorkaholic/pseuds/KatyTheInspiredWorkaholic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rickyl Writers' Group BINGO 2016: Accidental Stimulation</p><p>Daryl literally pushes Rick into a closet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Accidental Stimulation

**Author's Note:**

> First space completed! Accidental stimulation, I mean - I had to. It just jumped out at me XD I'm tempted to do a second chapter with porn, but only if you all want it, otherwise I'm happy with it as a stand-alone (Also no beta this time, just my own editing). Enjoy :)

\--

“In here!” Daryl hissed at Rick, staying low so they couldn’t be viewed through the windows of the tattered town house. Broken glass and shattered frames doing them no favors as they hid from the convoy picking its way through the streets. Rick and Daryl had ventured out under the pretense of hunting, though the constable knew Daryl just wanted to talk with him without anyone over-hearing. Normally Carol would be joining them outside the gates of Alexandria, but she had other business to attend to – needing to keep up her act as the defenseless housewife by staying prominent in the community. 

The small town was barely more than a few streets, but the buildings had muffled the sounds of the trucks and cars starting to make their way through. If the group hadn’t been so rowdy, smashing car windows and shouting at each other, they would have caught the two men standing in the street upon entry. 

Having quickly ducked into a side street, they pressed against the wall and did their best to get out and away before being spotted – but they hadn’t known how spread out the opposing group was. Someone shouted at them, from across the alley, and then bullets were ricocheting off the stone walls. Firing back did them little good, even with Rick’s impeccable aim, so they ran – in the opposite direction of Alexandria – and Daryl led them to a smattering of townhouses they could use as cover. They swept the first house they came to, Daryl’s crossbow aimed and ready along with Rick’s Colt, but the thundering of boots up the steps had them darting to the back of the house faster than was considered safe.

“ _No_ – in here!” Daryl hissed again, when all Rick did was run into the room and turn around with his gun raised, ready to fight anything that came through the door. Daryl shoved him back, pushing him into a storage closet with double doors, boxes and plastic containers piled to the ceiling. His broad shoulders barely fit, and before he could shift to make it more comfortable Daryl’s back pushed against his chest, crossbow up and ready in front of him – causing Rick to level his revolver as well on reflex, having to use Daryl’s shoulder and bicep to rest the extended arm against. The proximity and entanglement made them appear as one, a combined deadly weapon that fed off the same energy, giving each other the strength and sense of center they needed. And then they waited. 

Both men knew what the group could be capable of, memories of the Claimers, the cannibals at Terminus, the Governor and what he had done to their home plaguing their thoughts and keeping Rick’s heart beat spiked at the very least. They had just left Alexandria for a quick run, and weren’t prepared to fight the small infantry that had just poured into the streets. Especially not one that was obviously looking for a fight. 

If they found them, though, Rick and Daryl were ready to give them one. 

But they had to think of Alexandria, and their family that was still back there behind the tall steel walls, unaware of the convoy but hidden safe – for now. There was no use getting themselves into a situation that could put any of their lives at risk. Not when they had just found a semblance of peace.

The stomping foot falls of the few that entered the house echoed with their shouts to each other and over what sounded like a radio. They had seen Rick and Daryl, and their weapons – or at least Daryl’s, his crossbow was mentioned more than once, making the hunter readjust his grip on it as if someone was about to snatch it away. The noise kept getting closer, but behind the paneled double doors they could see out into the room and no one had entered yet. Rick’s heart-rate was quick, adrenaline coursing through him and feeding his concentration, his awareness – like how Daryl kept pushing back against him, as if to hide him further, and the tense lines of muscle in his back and shoulders that were hunched and probably knotting. 

How he hadn’t noticed before that the hand not holding his pistol was settled on Daryl’s hip to help hold him in place, and because he had nowhere else to put it. His fingers twitched when he did notice, brushing against coarse leather and rough denim and something warm that must have been Daryl’s skin. 

Rick readjusted his grip on the Colt, mentally shaking himself out of that mindset and back on the sound of footsteps outside the door of the office they were holed up in. But it was difficult with Daryl’s long hair brushing against his face, the over-whelming aromas of leather and cigarette smoke and pine needles that clung to the other man like a magnet, filling Rick’s senses and making him a little dizzy when paired with how close his friend was pressed against him. All down his front, from his clavicle to his thighs, and the hunter ran _warm_ Rick realized in increasing awareness. He knew that, though, from all those cold nights the past couple years where they sat side by side on watch, because he had always ended up pressed close by the end of the shift – seeking the archer’s warmth. At first he had been cautious about it, back when they barely knew each other, because Daryl was so adverse to people touching him. Now, though, Rick would consider something was wrong if the archer hadn’t clapped him on the shoulder or grabbed his arm to get his attention during the day. Daryl went out of his way to touch Rick, it was an important part of how they communicated, and Rick always just took it as a compliment. That Daryl trusted him enough to touch him.

But they hadn’t ever been this close, in this way, practically spooning in a closet – of which the irony was not lost on Rick – with this steadily increasing heat pooling in Rick’s core the longer they stood there with their weapons aimed and ready.

In fact he felt a little bad, Daryl was in this position to literally shield Rick with his own body if something were to happen, which should anger Rick in some way but he couldn’t seem to focus long enough to do so. Between trying to hear the group searching the house over his heart beat in his ears, and failing to not focus on the line of Daryl’s hips as he continued to push against him, shoulders heavy as well as he leaned on Rick’s broad chest for support to help continue to hold up the 50 lbs crossbow. Rick knew his breathing was becoming a little labored, and he tried to keep the pants escaping him to a minimum, but with how close they were there was no way Daryl couldn’t feel his hot breath on his neck. 

In fact, a huff that escaped Daryl sounded more winded than necessary, both men should have had time to catch their breath after running through the house. Rick’s grip on his hip tightened experimentally, and that same sound exhaled roughly from Daryl, his tense muscles practically vibrating with how solid he was holding himself. 

Rick could be imagining it, they were in a high risk situation and now was _not_ the time for him to be loosing every shred of sense about him to the over whelming presence of Daryl fucking Dixon.

And there was no way Daryl couldn’t feel that he was half hard and pressed against his ass. 

Rick allowed himself to close his eyes for just a second, try to swallow and clear the fucking blockage in his throat because it was so hard to _breathe_ let alone think straight when the heavy weight of Daryl Dixon was pressing back against him and all Rick wanted to do was _grind_. And Christ, that was a new thought – he’d always admired the hunter, for his strength and courage and out-right moral standard, and yes he was handsome in his own rugged way. But he had never thought about Daryl like that, like this. If fact he should be shocked about it, but there was too much going on around them, and it was almost too much to handle. But God it felt so _damn good_.

So when Daryl shifted his stance, pressing his backside even more into Rick’s crotch a soft groan escaped the constable and his hand fully grasped Daryl’s hip, nails digging in. He had enough sense to turn his head to speak quietly into the archer’s ear and whisper “stop,” his hand halting Daryl’s motions but also dragging his thumb along the exposed skin between Daryl’s jeans and his raised shirt. “Can’t concentrate when you do that.” And he knew his voice sounded raspy, heavy, full of promise because God _damn_ now he was turned on. If Daryl hadn’t noticed his fucking erection before he sure as fuck did now. 

Daryl was as still as a stone, not even breathing, and it took a moment for him to nod once in undestanding, more of a jerk than a full motion. Just in time for the door to the office to burst open. 

With bated breath they waited, the office itself was a cluttered mess and there was a chance the scout wouldn’t even look in the storage closet. Rick’s hand had moved a bit more round Daryl’s front, holding him close and steadying him, admiring how the hunter followed the intruder with his crossbow with the smallest of movements. If Rick hadn’t been plastered to Daryl’s back he wouldn’t have noticed he was moving at all. 

The guy looking for them was in half army infantry clothes, and half street clothes, but he didn’t look like an army grunt. He pillaged through the room, not really looking for Rick and Daryl but more for anything he deemed interesting. He had blood splattered on him, and it looked too red to be walker blood, confirming their suspicions that these people weren’t friendly. 

“They ain’t here,” someone shouted from down the hall. “Try the next house!” And the man reluctantly left, eyes sweeping over the room one last time, and falling on the closed doors of the storage closet. Rick let out a slow breath, aiming just right so his bullet would go right between the fucker’s eyes if he made a move towards them, and Daryl rested his finger against the trigger already aimed and ready. The man made an aborted motion to move before “RILEY! C’mon let’s get outta here!” and then the man turned and left without looking back again. 

They waited until they heard the group enter the house next door before either lowered their weapons, and Daryl made to move away but Rick used his now free arm to cross over Daryl’s chest, Colt python heavy in his hand on Daryl’s shoulder. Holding him in place. Once again turning so he could talk right into Daryl’s ear, he muttered low and heavy “you were doing that on purpose.” 

Only a beat passed before Daryl turned to look at him, pale blue eyes bright and pupils blown out, jaw clenched tight but something questioning in his face as he peered at Rick behind his long hair. The flush that crossed the bridge of his nose and dusted his cheeks easy to see with how close Rick was to his face, and giving away his answer before he could open his mouth. 

“Prove it.”


	2. Purposeful Stimulation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ask and you shall receive, I got an overwhelming response to do another chapter so this is what I have for you. I'll admit all the wonderful comments left are what drove me to write this, so thank you all of you. This is my very first full length smut scene I've done for this fandom (or for any fandom in _years_ ) so I hope I do them justice :) un-beta'd, enjoy the smut

\--

“Prove it.”

Rick exhaled through his nose slowly, never looking away from the piercing, challenging look in Daryl’s eyes. It was a challenge, a question in Daryl’s own brusque way, rough and wild and speaking volumes of what the man trapped in his arms could do to him when backed into a corner. 

Or what he might let Rick do to him. 

They were standing on a precipice, carefully balanced on the edge of knife that could go two ways, everything that happened could end right now if Rick just smiled and clapped him on the shoulder – took his hands off his friend and let them escape from the dangers still lurking outside on the streets. 

Or – 

Rick kept his hand with the Colt Python rooted to Daryl’s shoulder, the gun heavy in his hand and keeping his arm barred across the hunter’s broad chest, effectively holding Daryl in place with Rick still plastered to his back. The hand at his hip he let slide further around until his fingers were tracing over the make-shift belt buckle Daryl had had as long as Rick could remember, thumb still tracing along the exposed skin there above the rough denim jeans. Once there he splayed his hand, long fingers hot like brands and making Daryl suck in a breath through his teeth audibly – because there was no hiding how tight the archer’s jean were where Rick had his hand rested. 

Rick could feel Daryl’s chest heave, his heart rate pick up beneath his hand with the Colt, as he pressed back with the hand on his jeans. Forcing Daryl to once again press back into Rick’s obvious hard on, and this time Rick did not stop himself from rolling his hips forward against Daryl’s ass. To his credit, Daryl was able to stifle the groan Rick only heard a stuttered syllable of, but the way his pale blue eyes lost focus was all the ‘proof’ that Rick needed. He tilted his head to the side, as Daryl had seen him do many times in many different situations, so he could once again speak right into the hunter’s ear.

“I just did.”

Daryl’s eyes snapped back to him, watching him, and Rick knew he looked smug, a smile tugging at his lips and clear blue eyes alight and probably just as blown out with arousal as Daryl’s was. But before Rick could roll his hips forward again, the friction being the most _delicious_ thing he had felt in a long ass time, Daryl’s pale eyes narrowed dangerously, a twitch of a smirk at his own thin lips. And he threw himself backwards, sending Rick into the shelving behind them roughly. 

They knocked over an entire stack of boxes and other various items, and to keep from falling Rick had to release Daryl – which was the last thing in the world he wanted to do – unlocking his arms so he could brace himself on the surprisingly unbroken shelves. He had barely managed to push himself upright and regain his footing in the small enclosed space when he was pushed back again, this time by Daryl’s heavy hands on his shoulders and every inch of warm, lean muscle on his front. Daryl’s hands slid to Rick’s biceps, holding his shoulders and arms down and pinning him to the wall, though Rick’s had come up on instinct as well, more holding on to Daryl’s arms in return than pushing back. And wow – he could feel the bulging muscle through Daryl’s jacket, the power in them that rang clear and true how much _stronger_ Daryl was than him. 

Daryl also had him pinned by the hips, and it took every shred of his self control for Rick to not squirm because he could feel how hard they both were. But this was Daryl’s way of _playing_ with him, and fuck if that didn’t turn Rick on even more, so he held himself still and caught Daryl’s gaze once more. 

His head ticked to the side again, and Rick relished in how he could literally see Daryl’s pupils dilate at the gesture, preening in knowing what turned the hunter on. “Ya gonna kiss me, Daryl?” he questioned after a moment of them staring at each other – spoke quietly, roughly, more challenge than inquiry in the words. But Rick’s heart was about to beat out of his damn chest at the thought, every primal urge rushing through him at the careful balance of sexual tension and battle of strength they were playing with. 

The hunter inched forward just a bit, so there was just a few inches between their faces, and answered lowly, “Only if ya ask nice.”

“I ain’t gonna beg ya, Dixon.”

Daryl huffed in what might have been a laugh if all the air hadn’t seemed to escape them. “Wouldn’t trust ya if you did, _Grimes_.” And then Rick was done playing, and he surged forward those short few inches and devoured the other’s mouth. It was like a coil had snapped, Daryl’s hands letting up on Rick’s shoulders and the constable pulling him in roughly, angling his head just right so the fevered kiss turned to open mouths and panting breath. Coarse stubble and biting teeth, Daryl’s favorite thing becoming pulling Rick’s bottom lip between his teeth just to hear him groan, and Rick’s tracing every inch of Daryl’s mouth with his tongue. 

They were pressed tightly together, chest to chest, all the way down to their thighs, and both men were suddenly very aware of the other’s hardness as Daryl rolled his hips forward in an attempt to get closer. The gasp that broke from Rick’s throat dissolved the kiss into panting for air, as Rick then grabbed onto Daryl’s hips and gave into his earlier instinct to just _grind_ against the other. Daryl barely managed a stuttered “F-fuck” between clenched teeth before he was rolling forward again to match Rick’s movements. The friction was amazing, the pulsating heat from his cock sending electric shocks of pleasure up Rick’s spine with every drag and thrust, and the powerful movements of Daryl’s hips under his hands – just feeling the direction and drive of his thrusts made so many promises for more Rick was almost coming undone in his jeans. But the pressure was too much, confining and practically cutting of circulation Rick was so hard, and the way the tattered edges of their pants kept catching and pulling was both terribly erotic and insanely irritating. 

The frustrated sound Daryl made was enough of a protest, and he pulled back roughly to start undoing Rick’s pants with quick, calloused fingers. Long, tan digits, deft and quick working, Rick couldn’t help but stare and found himself asking breathlessly, “Ya ever done this before?” 

“Nope,” Daryl answered gruffly, voice thick with want, and the relief Rick felt at having his fly undone causing another groan to escape him. “But it ain’t rocket science.” And then he was reaching into Rick’s pants, hand fully grasping Rick’s cock, and Rick moaned so loud suddenly Daryl’s other hand was over his kiss-swollen mouth, the archer pressed close once more. “If you get us killed ov’r a damn hand job-” but his threats were cut off because Rick had started working on Daryl’s pants as well, getting into them much faster, and freeing his erection before Daryl could finish his thought. “ _Jesus_ fuck,” Daryl’s head fell forward onto Rick’s shoulder, Rick wasting no time in experimentally stroking Daryl’s cock. It was thicker than his own but not as long, impressive and making Rick’s mouth water though he couldn’t understand why, but when Daryl started fucking his fist he couldn’t help the groan in his throat and the aborted thrust of his own hips into Daryl’s hand. 

This was going to last embarrassingly fast, because Rick hadn’t had sex since Lori on the Greene farm, and he wasn’t sure if Daryl had gotten any since before the dead started walking. But watching the hunter fall apart under his hand, eyes fluttering in pleasure and soft moans escaping parted lips as his powerful body worked with Rick’s own was the most erotic and beautiful thing Rick had seen in a long time. Rick got an arm around Daryl, pressing them closer, using his shoulder and chest to get Daryl to lift his head so he could see him again. Pressing his forehead against Daryl’s own, sweat dripping and hot breath fanning over his face, Rick knocked Daryl’s hand out of the way and took both of their aching erections into one hand. The feel of flesh on flesh was so electric he _felt_ Daryl gasp their faces were so close. With Daryl fucking his fist the drag of their cocks against each other caused such a blindingly pleasurable flash of need and want, the movement’s slick with precum and what must have been Daryl’s spit at one point, that it was no surprise when Daryl’s thrusts turn erratic. And then he was coming all over Rick’s hand and erection, hot and sticky and groaning into the junction of Rick’s neck and shoulder. 

It wasn’t a stroke after that, that Rick saw white and came so hard he would’ve lost his footing if Daryl hadn’t been pinning him to the shelves. 

It took them a couple minutes to come down from the high, the intense waves of pleasure that had Rick nosing at the hair by Daryl’s ear, contentment buzzing in his chest, with the hunter still pressed all along his front, heavy and warm and comforting. And also had Rick wondering – why hadn’t he had this before? How much time had they wasted because he hadn’t seen what was in front of him? 

He still had a lot of cum on his hand, and he knew there were stains on his jeans but Rick really couldn’t find it in himself to care. He carefully wiped their combined release on some form of cloth thing on the shelves behind him, and tucked himself back in his jeans while Daryl did the same. But Rick didn’t let the archer leave the enclosed space without grabbing his arm, pulling him back in close, and catching his gaze again. Daryl’s pale blue eyes were guarded, careful, and just a quick blink away from hostile – as if preparing for the worst, jaw clenched tight and lips in a thin line. Or as thin as they could be after being bitten red and swollen. Fuck, that just made Rick want to kiss him again. 

And the amazing thing was, he could. 

He inched forward, darting clear blue eyes indicating what he wanted, and asking permission in that way only they communicated in could be understood. And when Daryl didn’t move that was as much an answer as anything, so Rick pressed forward, once again tasting that unique flavor that was a blend of cigarettes and jerky and something so fresh and raw that it just had to be _Daryl_. The kiss wasn’t soft, nothing about them was ever going to be soft, but it was slow and sensual, and left a buzzing elation running like electric currents underneath Rick’s skin. It made it harder to piece his thoughts together, but after a few moments he was able to speak again.

“Next time,” he drawled, low and promising, “we’re doing this on a bed.” 

Daryl huffed that same breath of air that might have been a laugh, a twitch to his lips that might have been a smile. “Gonna have’ta be mine, yer kids make a habit of ending up in yer room.”

Rick’s teeth were bared he was smiling so wide, “that an invitation?”

“Guess yer gonna have to find out,” Daryl muttered lowly, sensually, rough and wild and full of promises and challenge – it would always be a challenge with Daryl fucking Dixon.

And Rick wouldn’t have him any other way.


End file.
